


Pain (lol I can't title my shit)

by taylor_tut



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Gen, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Hank Anderson, gavin reed is kind of nice, gavin reed isn't such a prick, injured connor (detroit become human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 14:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: From my tumblr: a request for "Connor being rescued by the person he trusts the least." Gavin finds him after a traumatic kidnapping and sits with him while they wait for backup.





	Pain (lol I can't title my shit)

Gavin threw open the door of the back of the delivery truck, revealing probably 25 androids hanging from the ceiling, strung up by their wrists an dangling lifelessly.

“Jesus, fuck,” he cursed under his breath, feeling his stomach turn even despite knowing that there were never any human victims involved and trying to convince himself that this wasn’t barbaric regardless. The back of the car stunk of unkempt freezer smell and stale thirium, still stringent despite that it had evaporated from sight. The back of the car was dark enough to immediately notice the one single red LED light amidst all the dull, dark ones. 

“Detective Reed,” a voice, weak and strained, rasped. Gavin’s eyes went wide when he realized that it wasn’t just ANY RK800 model in the back of the truck, but the DPD’s RK800 model. The plastic detective, the android prick. 

“Connor,” Gavin exclaimed, rushing forward to untie him, unable to restrain his shock enough to act indifferent. 

He’d been missing for five days. Though Hank had insisted that something was wrong, that Connor was missing and needed a search party, Fowler had dismissed him, saying that if something were wrong, that Connor would have submitted a report to Cyberlife and gotten rescue. This case had been particularly high-stakes for Connor, a deviant android targeting those who were not. Any android with an LED and a Cyberlife jacket was a potential target, and Connor had been working nonstop to find him and stop him. 

Then, on Monday, he hadn’t shown up for work. Hank had gone behind Fowler’s back to file a “lost or stolen equipment” report, and they didn’t hear anything for five days. Gavin had felt nothing but irritation at having to overtake Connor’s place working under Hank on the android-killer case.

As soon as he released the cuffs from Connor’s wrists, he slumped bonelessly into Gavin, surprising him when he immediately had to catch him and ease him to the floor.

“Sorry,” Connor mumbled slowly, dazedly, as if he were barely able to keep track of a thought, “he… turned off m’vement.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gavin brushed him off, sitting him up against the side of the truck, “just take a minute.” Connor’s skin was covered in lacerations and scrapes and, most horrifyingly, a dent in the side of his head. “God, you’re a fucking wreck. Hank’s gonna shit a brick.”

Connor couldn’t move, could barely speak, but managed to smile just a little upon Hank’s mention. “I want to go home,” Connor confessed, and Gavin couldn’t help but laugh a bit sympathetically. It was rare, in his particular line of work as a detective, to be able to pull anyone out of a wreck like this while they were any definition of “alive,” and it was still a little thrilling. He felt like a hero. He felt like his job mattered, even if it was only because he saved the DPD $35K to replace their RK800. 

“Ready to move?” Gavin asked, getting under Connor’s arm to hoist him up before he even replied. Connor yelped so sharply that Gavin lost his grip and dropped him back down, kneeling down next to him as Connor’s face showed pure agony. 

“He—put a chip—nervous system,” Connor strained, his breathing ragged and sharp.

“What the fuck do you mean?” he demanded. “What does the chip do?”

Fighting to calm his breathing, Connor gasped out, “pain.” Gavin cursed under his breath and whipped out his radio, barking orders into it.

“I need backup and a Cyberlife tech on standby,” he ordered, “I’ve got Connor, and I can’t get him out of here alone.” 

“You found him?” a familiar voice asked, hopeful but tentative, and Connor could cry in relief if he were human. 

“Hank,” Connor breathed. Hank laughed. 

“Hey, kid. I’m in route, okay? How ya doin’?”

“He’s banged up pretty bad,” Gavin supplied, “and they put some kind of crazy pain sim into his head. There’s no way he’s walking out of here.”

“Fuck,” Hank muttered angrily, suddenly wishing that they hadn’t already handed the suspect over into detention. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

As they waited for Hank, Connor managed to turn his head just enough to look Gavin in the eyes.

“What’re you staring at?” Gavin snapped. Connor didn’t avert his gaze—he wasn’t sure he could if he tried.

“You actually saved me,” he admitted.

“Happenstance,” Gavin rolled his eyes. “Pure dumb luck I stumbled in here. Could’ve just as easily been Hank, so don’t act like I was out here searching for you.”

Connor nodded. “Maybe not,” he said, “but you didn’t have to radio in. You could have let me die in here.”

Something about the word “die” struck a nerve with Gavin. It was easy to be aloof and even cruel when Connor was a thing, but… he’d been afraid. He’d spent the last five days in here scared for his life, dying alone and hopeless. With a sigh, he shrugged off his jacket and covered Connor with it. His face relaxed, so Gavin had to assume that some of the discomfort had been from being locked in basically a freezer for a week. 

“Reinforcements are on the way,” Gavin avoided, definitely not wanting to face Connor’s gratitude. “Just sit tight. I’m sure they’ll get that shit out of your brain soon.”

Connor looked apprehensive, bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m not sure I want to rid myself of the sensation of pain entirely,” he admitted. Gavin raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?” he asked skeptically. Connor nodded. “Damn. If I could opt out of it, I would.”

“I don’t believe that, Detective,” Connor argued immediately. “It’s what makes you human. It separates you from… well, from us.”

“So what gives you the fucking right to feel it?” he demanded.

“What gives us the right not to?”

Before Gavin could say another word, Hank was climbing through the open food truck door. 

“Connor,” he breathed in relief, collapsing right next to him, his hands hovering over his body wanting but afraid to touch him. “Jesus, am I glad to see you.”

“Likewise,” Connor replied, his eyes sparkling in a way that Gavin had never seen before. Momentarily, the pain abated, and not because he no longer had the ability to feel it, but because a byproduct overshadowed it. Gavin cut the moment short, snaking his arm under one of Connor’s and lifting him, with Hank’s help, up and out of the truck to get to the car. 

“Thanks, Gavin,” Connor said gratefully. Gavin stiffened, but nodded. There was no need for anything else. 


End file.
